


Wish you were(n't) here

by RuArcher (Coriesocks)



Series: Star Wars fics [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Card Games, Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Kylux Summer Fest 2020, M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Swearing, Top Kylo Ren, Trapped, blackout - Freeform, hung kylo ren, hux in panties, mild dub/con due to alcohol and implied non-consensual mind-reading, questionable decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26330398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriesocks/pseuds/RuArcher
Summary: When Hux finds out Kylo Ren has been getting Mitaka and other officers to neglect their duties and act as his personal delivery droids, Hux does the only thing he can think of: he confiscates the delivery and plans to have a stern word with him. Unfortunately, as with most things concerning Ren, nothing goes as Hux planned. Especially when a catastrophic systems failure leads to them being stuck in the dark with only deck of cards and a bottle of whiskey for amusement. Oh, and Ren’s mysterious delivery, which Hux is trying very hard to ignore.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Star Wars fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079093
Comments: 17
Kudos: 174
Collections: Kylux Summer Fest 2020





	Wish you were(n't) here

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts Blackout - play - delivery on the kylux summerfest 2020 board 2

Hux barely looked up from his datapad as he strode back to his quarters, footsteps harsh in the quiet corridor. It had been another hellish cycle. Or had it been two? Three? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal, let alone actually made it back to his room for more than a catnap. They were behind schedule with everything, and Snoke continued to choose the most inopportune moments to summon him to provide a status report. But the cream on top of the bantha-shit cake he was dealing with today came in the form of Kylo Ren—perpetual splinter beneath the fingernail that he was. He had been even more Kylo Ren-ish than usual, stomping through the control room, demanding things of Hux’s officers like he any authority over them whatsoever. That they all dropped everything to fulfil Ren’s requests was even more galling. 

The structure around him shuddered as another explosion rocked the base. They were still excavating some sections of the planet’s crust, something which should have been complete weeks ago, but which had been held up thanks to pirates wreaking havoc with their supply lines. In all honesty, Hux shouldn’t be planet-side since the threat of catastrophic failure was still so high, but without him here to chivvy things along and glare at people, they’d fall even further behind. The fact that Ren had stayed aboard the Finalizer was just a pleasant bonus and had carried absolutely no weight when he made his decision to oversee things on Starkiller more closely.

Rushed footsteps sounded from behind Hux, the sound echoing through the bare, durasteel corridor. It wasn’t the heavy, rhythmic stomp of Troopers rushing towards a confrontation, but the uneven slap of someone in non-combat boots trying to move quickly without breaking into an undignified job. From the sounds of it, they weren’t doing a particularly good job. Did no one in the Order remember how to conduct themselves? Hux stopped in the middle of the corridor silently seething. He just wanted to get back to his quarters, have a hot shower, a glass of whiskey, and then collapse into his bed. He didn’t need to be dealing with officers gambolling through Starkiller base as if they were on leave. Whoever it was would feel the sharp edge of his tongue. Perhaps a swift demotion. He very much was not feeling like dealing with any more crap today. 

The footsteps grew louder, a sort of skipping _slapslapslap slap slap._ And then a gasp and a frantic hissing shuffle as the creator of the ruckus obviously rounded the corner and recognised a senior officer.

Datapad neatly tucked under one arm, Hux turned on his heel, slowly, deliberately. And was confronted by lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka, clutching a crate to his chest as if it held the answers to life itself.

“General Hux, sir!” Mitaka squeaked, snapping to attention. The crate wobbled precariously in his grasp as he tried to free a hand and salute. Hux almost felt sorry for him at the sight of the stricken look that passed across his face before he rallied. Almost.

“Lieutenant. I can only assume something is on fire.”

“Sir?”

“Why else would you be running?”

“Oh! Yes, sorry. I— I mean, it won’t happen again, sir.”

Hux exhaled through his nose and valiantly resisted rubbing his fingers against the throbbing pain in his head. “Very well. Be sure that it doesn’t. You’re a lieutenant with a stellar record, Mitaka. Be sure you don’t risk besmirching it with unnecessary haste.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Mitaka nodded and made to walk away, a frantic edge to his steps, still.

The lack of a proper explanation was irritating. Hux didn’t like being forced to pry. That didn’t mean he _wasn’t_ going to pry. “Was there any particular reason for your hurry?” Hux asked, halting Mitaka’s escape.

Mitaka seemed to shrink in on himself as he turned. “No? Maybe. Um…” He shifted on his feet. The crate was an awkward fit in his arms—just a little too large for him to comfortably wrap his arms around—and it looked heavy too. He was no doubt eager to drop it off somewhere, but it would serve as satisfying punishment if he were made to carry it a little longer. “Well, you see, Lord Ren requested I bring his delivery to him the instant it arrived, and it took me longer than I thought to locate it and—”

 _Ren._ The name coiled around Hux like a tentacle, constricting his chest, making it harder and harder to keep his breathing steady. It was one thing to order Hux’s officers around under the pretence of work, but to send them on personal errands like this… Hux’s eye twitched. And then he put together the meaning behind Mitaka’s words. “Kylo Ren is here?” Hux asked, clenching his hands so tightly behind his back, they ached. “And he has you running errands? Is this a First Order matter?” As the commanding officer, he should be notified of all arrivals and departures while he was on base, especially if Kylo kriffing Ren had decided to show up. What was he playing at?

“I’m not sure, sir. He normally has one of the others fetch him his deliveries when we’re on the Finalizer, but there are fewer of us around planet-side. He asked that I deliver it to his quarters, so I assume he’s there? Sir?”

Hux didn’t like the questioning tone. It implied Mitaka had noticed he was trying very hard not to punch the wall. "So let me get this straight,” he started, ensuring enough rage seeped into his tone that Mitaka would reveal the truth, but not so much that he seemed overly emotional or out of control (irrational temper tantrums were Ren’s forte after all), “Kylo Ren pulls you away from your vital duties so that you can play delivery droid for him? And this happens regularly, does it?" 

For a moment, Mitaka looked like he very much wanted a sarlacc to emerge from the floor beneath him and swallow him whole, but in an amazing display of backbone, he lifted his chin and stifled the quiver. “He usually asks Thanisson, but he’s still on the Finalizer so—”

“Enough,” Hux snapped. High Command would be hearing about this. How dare that _child_ who did nothing but get under Hux’s feet use First Order officers as delivery droids? It was so like Ren, that Hux wasn’t even that surprised by the flagrant abuse of his power. Just enraged. What was he getting delivered that was so important that he had to bypass normal procedures? And why couldn’t the kriffing arse fetch it himself? Whatever his reasons, Hux vowed, it stopped now.

“Follow me, Lieutenant.” He turned his back on Mitaka and continued to his quarters. He would hold the package for Ren in his quarters and make him fetch it himself. Then Hux would be able to let him know in precise detail why he would not stand for this sort of behaviour, even from the Supreme Leader’s lap dog.

There was a split-second when he thought Mitaka might disobey him, but then he heard the unmistakable slap of his skittish footsteps as the lieutenant hurried to keep up. Good.

“But… sir? Lord Ren—”

“Leave Kylo Ren to me, Lieutenant. I’ll ensure he knows you were following his orders to the letter before I intervened.”

“Thank you, sir.” He didn’t sound particularly reassured, but he continued to follow anyway. Hux relaxed minutely—Mitaka had a lot of promise; he really would hate to have to get rid of him for a show of misplaced loyalty.

*

The walk back to Hux’s quarters was short and uneventful. Hux refused to moderate his stride to account for Mitaka. It would be a good lesson for him—perhaps next time he wouldn’t be so keen to neglect his duties in favour of assisting Ren. Not that there’d be a next time if Hux had any say.

When they arrived, he instructed Mitaka to leave the crate on his desk and dismissed him with a sharp admonishment and a promise of what lay in his future if he continued to make questionable decisions. Then, with Mitaka gone, Hux pulled up Ren’s contact on his datapad and fired off a quick message, noting with no small measure of irritation the long string of unanswered messages already present. 

_I have your package in my quarters. I’ll arrange for it to be passed on to you at my earliest convenience._

Brief and to the point. He’d be having words with Ren in person about his conduct so there was no need going into it in a message. He spared a thought for Mitaka—wondering if he should send a second message reminding Ren not to take his frustrations out on the personnel—but then he decided that Ren would likely come for Hux before going for anyone else and the glimmer of guilt was extinguished.

The status of the message switched to _read_ almost immediately, and Hux watched for a few minutes waiting for a response, smiling as he pictured Ren’s displeasure. When no reply was forthcoming, he sighed and tossed the datapad onto his bed. He wasn’t wasting his scant free time waiting around for a reply. 

A well-deserved night off loomed large and inviting before him and he fully intended to make use of it. He was going to pour himself a measure of whiskey and savour it while waiting for the bath to fill, then he’d take the bottle and a copy of his favourite spy novel and soak until his extremities were pruned and the water had run cold. Then he would turn up the heat a touch, lounge in bed, and spend time getting reacquainted with his hand until he was deliciously sated and fully de-stressed. He briefly mourned the absence of his toys which he’d left locked away in his quarters on the Finalizer, but he at least had lube and an abundance of creativity. He wouldn’t be left wanting. His cock throbbed in his pants, thickening as his thoughts wandered. He smiled to himself, anticipation thrumming through his veins, and let his hand drift to the front of his trousers, palming himself through the fabric. He was briefly tempted to abandon his plans for whiskey and a bath—there was nothing to say he couldn’t do that after he’d attended to his needs—but he knew he’d be dead to the world after he came and he wanted to draw the anticipation out for as long as possible.

Another smile played across his lips as he tugged off his gloves and loosened his collar, fingers working deftly at the clasps. It had been such a long time since he’d last had time to be so self-indulgent. He couldn’t wait to— 

His gaze lit upon the crate— _Ren’s crate_ —and his growing arousal fizzled out. Kriffing Ren. How was he supposed to enjoy himself with that thing lurking on his desk, cluttering up his space? Hux eyed it suspiciously, half-expecting something terrible to leap out like it was some kind of deadly jack-in-the-box. It would be just like Ren to have something like that delivered, and it occurred to him that he probably should have questioned Mitaka a little more thoroughly about what was inside before demanding it be brought into his room. 

Hux sighed, the crate’s presence already irritating him no end and it hadn’t even been sat there a full five minutes. It was just so… present. And there was no escaping it. On the Finalizer, his quarters at least consisted of separate rooms—a living area, an office, a bedroom, a refresher—but here on Starkiller, whoever had designed the layout of the private rooms clearly hadn’t been thinking with comfort in mind. Or function. Here, he had just a single room where he was supposed to work, eat, and sleep. The one saving grace was the spacious bathtub in the private refresher. Water rationing was less of an issue on an ice planet and since baths were a personal weakness of Hux’s, he intended to make full use of the luxury while he actually had time.

Putting Ren’s curious package out of his mind, Hux continued with his off-time as planned. He glanced at his datapad while he waited for the bath to fill but finding a reply from Ren still absent, he resolutely put him out of his mind and chucked the datapad onto his desk. So much for his _urgent_ delivery. Selfish bastard. The device emitted a mournful beep letting him know it was running low of battery, but the call of the bath was too strong—he’d charge it afterwards. Maybe he’d even turn it off for a few hours—if his attention was needed, no doubt they’d comm him.

*

Hux towelled himself dry, enjoying the scratchy texture of the regulation-issue towel against his overheated skin. The fabric was too thin and barely absorbent enough to do the job—he’d have been better off drying himself with his vest in all honesty—but he was clean, his limbs felt heavy and relaxed, and his thoughts had quietened to a dull buzz. He stood in front of the small refresher mirror and cast an eye assessing eye over what he could see of his body. His skin was still flushed and bath-heated, and the glass and a half of whiskey had gone straight to his head, giving him a slightly glassy gaze, but he looked good. Tired, yes, but at least his body showed no signs yet of heading the way of his father’s bloated form.

Back in his room Hux retrieved the thin box he’d stashed at the back of his wardrobe and then carefully opened the lid, viewing the content with a reverent sigh. Perfect. He’d felt foolish packing something so frivolous at the time, but seeing the dark green silk robe and panties nestled in the box, he was glad he’d done it. The silk was cool against his skin and as he looped the sash around his waist, he finally felt the last of his tension drain.

His datapad pinged sadly again from wherever he had chucked it, reminding him it needed charging. As he spun around, searching for it, his eyes caught on Ren’s crate, still lurking in his room like an unwelcome relative. Why had he ever thought it would be a good idea to get Mitaka to leave it here? He could have let him continue with the delivery, then sent Ren a strongly worded email reminding him that First Order officers were not at his beck and call. But no, he couldn’t leave it alone; he’d had to involve himself. 

Forcing himself to ignore it, Hux grabbed the datapad and put it on charge at the port by his bedside. 3% battery life left. That would teach him to work through the night… not that he had much choice about the matter. He absently scrolled through all the messages that had appeared while he was in the bath, marking a few as top priority and forwarding them to the relevant people, then ignoring the rest. 

His robe slipped off one shoulder as he scrolled and he had to set the datapad down so he could straighten it out again. Tightening the sash around his waist, his gaze once again settled on the crate. He studied it, eyes narrowed, hunting for any clues as to what was hiding inside. The alcohol had only heightened his curiosity and he found he was unable, or unwilling, to look away. It was nothing special from the outside; a generic design, often used for transporting fragile or expensive items, but he’d seen people use them for all sorts. It must have something of worth in it, though, if Ren had felt it necessary to have it escorted to his rooms. Emboldened by the whiskey in his system, Hux trailed his fingers over the sides to locate the catch. These types of boxes were usually sealed for transit to prevent casual tampering, but he found no evidence of a security seal. It was probably still locked, though, he thought, hooking his nail on the catch and pulling.

A hiss of compressed air accompanied the distinct whirring click of an electronic catch disengaging. So, it wasn’t locked, then.

Hux wasn’t sure what to do now. He’d not anticipated the crate being so easy to open. In fact, since Ren was so obsessed with that handwavey nonsense, Hux had half-expected the crate to be cursed, but as he was still upright, still in perfect health, he could only assume it was okay. Would that still be the case if he flipped open the lid? _Should_ he flip open the lid? He tried to imagine how he’d feel if things were the other way round—if Ren was snooping through his packages—but since he would never be so stupid as to let Ren get his hands on anything of a personal nature, he couldn’t picture it.

If Ren hadn’t wanted anyone to look through his crate, Hux reasoned, he should have had it delivered securely by droid, or picked it up himself. Hux could hardly be blamed for taking a look. It was a matter of safety.

With that in mind, he carefully lifted the lid… and almost choked on his tongue.

The first thing that struck him was the colours—pinks and oranges and blues and purples. Neon green, even. Then his brain processed the shapes of the different coloured objects and he realised he was looking at a box of, among other things, multi-coloured cocks. He blinked a few times, trying to parse the image of Mitaka scurrying through the corridors of Starkiller with a box of Ren’s dildos. Had he had any clue what lay in his hands?

Despite knowing he should definitely shut the lid and forget he saw anything—even Ren was allowed a modicum of privacy, he thought belatedly—Hux couldn’t tear his gaze away. There was just so much to…take in. (He wasn’t going to think about that. No.) The range of sizes went all the way from _what’s the point?_ to _are you fucking kidding me?_ And the longer he stared, the longer Hux realised that there were other things there too—plugs of varying shapes and sizes, beads, some leather-looking straps that could be restraints? And then there were the holovids and holographs stacked up in the corner. Hux by no means considered himself a prude, and he possessed what he’d thought was a decent enough collection of toys himself, but Ren’s collection boggled his mind. (If indeed it _was_ Ren’s and hadn’t been confiscated or—Hux shuddered— _borrowed_ ). There were several things where he could only guess at their purpose. Kriffing stars. No wonder Mitaka had struggled under its weight.

His fingers twitched with the urge to touch, to investigate. Would Ren notice? Would he somehow sense Hux had laid eyes on his impressive collection? Fuck. He was suddenly assaulted by images of Ren using these things on himself. Maybe he’d lie on his back, legs spread, hair fanned out on the pillow, as he worked himself open; a selection of toys laid out beside him; fingers slick with lube; his cock hard and throbbing with need, leaking onto his stomach…

Hux trailed a finger down his chest, imagining Ren doing the same. He delicately circled a nipple, keeping his touch deliberately light, then ran the finger teasingly down, down, over his stomach, then lower still, feeling the bulge of his thickening cock already starting to strain against the silk. The touch was too light to bring any sort of relief. He wasn’t going to get off on imaging Ren using the toys. He wasn’t. 

What was Ren doing having this sort of thing delivered? Did he have a partner (or several) he shared this with? Was it _Mitaka??_ Hux didn’t care for the ugly feeling that stirred inside him. Ren was free to fuck whoever he wanted—just because Mitaka wasn’t in any way suited to him, Hux shouldn’t comment on another’s tastes. Although, he mentally added a lecture about the rules on cross-rank fraternisation to the list of things to cover with Ren. He looked back in the box.

The edge of the desk bit into Hux’s hip as he leaned closer; looking without touching. _He couldn’t touch._ His eyes fluttered shut. He clenched his hands at his side, digging nails into palms, and tried to steady his breathing; in through his nose, out through his mouth. It didn’t help. Images flashed unbidden through his mind. Ren in his room, alone. Undressing. Would he remove his helmet? Hux had never even gotten a glimpse of the man beneath it; didn’t even know if he was human. He’d assumed as much, but he could be wrong. He saw the contents of the crate spilt over Ren’s bed. Imagined Ren musing. Taking his time. Picking them up, one at a time, getting a feel for the size. Did he have a favourite? Hux thought he would probably select one of the mid-sized ones first; the green one, perhaps. Hux rather liked that one—it was a similar girth to his own and the idea of Ren fucking himself open with it made his mouth water and his knees weaken. But Ren was a big creature, perhaps he’d need more. Or maybe a cock in his mouth to shut him up while Hux worked him open with his tongue, preparing him for that glittery pink monster cock he’d seen nestled beneath the others... 

Fuck. He wanted to touch. Would Ren know, though, if he did? It was undeniably wrong to borrow someone else's dildo without their knowledge, but if he cleaned it and returned it exactly where he found it? Would Ren have any clue? Or perhaps he could just steal one. Pretend it got lost in transit. Ren was hardly likely to send out ‘Missing’ holographs for a lost cock…

Hux’s hand was hovering over the crate almost without his bidding when a series of loud thuds echoed through his room. He snatched his hand back as if stunned and clutched the robe together at his chest, heart racing. 

It took all of a second to figure out the sound had come from the door.

He stared guiltily at the open crate and snapped the lid shut just as there was a second series of heavy-handed knocks.

Who could it be? Everyone knew it was his off-shift and he was not to be disturbed. And they would have comm’d him if there was an emergency. Certainly, no one would come knocking at his door like… like some primitive Outer Rim cave-dweller. No one but— 

Another knock. Louder and more insistent. This time accompanied by a familiar, flat growl. Hux’s stomach plummeted. “Hux! I know you’re in there. Open the door before I break it down.”

Hux re-wrapped the robe about himself again, regretting its short length. At least the potential embarrassment had chased away any lingering arousal. “You have no authority to barge into my private room,” he shouted, tugging at the hem. His wardrobe was right there—if he could stall Ren…

“And you have no right to steal my stuff,” Ren yelled back. “Open. The damn. Door!” The durasteel door rattled in its frame, and the air felt charged.

Kriffing Ren. Hux shot a last desperate look at the wardrobe and stalked to the door panel, punching in the access code. So much for his alone time.

Ren’s hulking body filled the entrance, fists clenched at his sides, chest heaving. He appeared to falter momentarily on seen Hux, a full-body twitch, that was there and gone so quickly, Hux decided he’d imagined it. He glared, waiting for whatever nonsense Ren was bringing to his door while attempting to project as much dignity as he could muster dressed only in silk panties and matching robe. A robe that only came halfway down his thighs. _Fuck._ Ren glared back at him, obvious even with his face hidden by that ridiculous helmet. If Ren had delved into his mind at that precise moment, the internal groan would have deafened him.

“Well?” Ren snarled after the silence had stretched beyond the point of awkwardness.

Hux frowned. “Well what?”

“My stuff. I want it back.”

“Ah, yes. About that.” He automatically moved to clasp his hands behind his back but at the last second realised this action would pull his robe open at the front. He folded his arms in front of his chest instead. He didn’t care if it made him look defensive—at least he wouldn’t be flashing his nipples at Ren. “What makes you think you can order around my officers, forcing them to perform menial tasks well outside of their purview? You do realise we have droids for this exact purpose?”

“General Hux. My stuff. Now.”

Hux sneered, an ugly flush spreading across his chest as his rage grew. He had a good mind to tell Ren where he could stick his crate but before he could say anything to that effect, Ren barged past him, and the door closed with a hiss, sealing them together in Hux’s room. 

“You cannot just barge into—” Hux started, puffed up with indignation at the blatant disregard of his personal space.

Ren zeroed in on the crate and stomped straight over. “Did you open it?” he snapped, whipping his head around, keeping his body between Hux and the crate.

“No. Of course not.” At least the flush from his anger should mask his embarrassment

Hux held himself rigidly, arms still folded tightly across his chest, as Ren studied him in silence. He hated that he felt so exposed. He tried to blank his mind in case Ren got any ideas about taking a stroll through his subconscious. There was no way in the many and varied hells he wanted Ren to see what thoughts he’d been entertaining before he turned up.

The tense glaring match was suddenly broken when the lights flickered and a distant, low rumbling permeated through the base, swiftly followed by a vibration so strong that it rattled the cupboard doors. After almost a week on planet, Hux was used to the sounds of the excavation on the far side of the base, but that sounded different. Closer, maybe. More ominous. 

Ren seemed alarmed his stance now more wary than aggressive. He turned to Hux. “What was—” The question died as the room was plunged into darkness. 

With the darkness came a silence so thick it choked the air from Hux’s lungs. He gulped in a breath just to make sure he still could. And then another. It was Ren’s doing. It had to be. He was punishing Hux. “What did you do?” he snarled, fear clawing at his back. Darkness was pressing in on him from all sides. He screwed his eyes shut. He was going to suffocate. There was no air. No light. _Shitshitshit._ Sticking his hands out behind him, he carefully shuffled back. He needed to feel a wall; needed something solid behind him.

And then as if nothing had happened, a familiar hum started up as the life support systems kicked back in; the sound of air being recirculated like music to Hux’s ears. He sagged, tension draining from his shoulders. It can’t have been more than a second or two but it felt infinitely longer. He slowly opened his eyes. A thin green glowpanel marked the floor just in front of the entrance and a few other glowpanels, these a soft yellow, edged the foot of the walls casting an eerie glow over everything. Emergency lighting. It wasn’t much, but at least he could see again.

“What did you do?” Hux hissed again, realising he’d had no answer to his previous accusation. His datapad pinged relentlessly in its cradle, seeking his attention, but he refused to take his eyes off the hulking beast before him. 

“It wasn’t me.” He sounded… uncertain, if that was even possible through a voice modulator.

“What do you mean? It had to be you.”

“I—”

“Take your crate and go,” Hux snapped. “I need to find out what's going on, and I don’t want you here any more.”

“Fine.” Ren snatched the crate off the desk—it didn’t look half as big in his arms as it did in Mitaka’s—then turned on his heel and hit the door release but nothing happened. 

“Well, open it then.”

“I’m trying.”

“Clearly not hard enough.”

“What do you want me to do? Use the Force?”

“If needs must.”

Ren growled something under his breath. Or perhaps it was a heavy exhale. It was hard to tell with the mask. 

Hux watched quietly as he stared at the door but when after several minutes, the door remained shut, Hux began to feel a little restless.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Are you trying to talk it into bed? Get it open!”

“It’s more complicated than flicking a switch, not that you’d understand.”

“Fine, then why don’t you just hack it open with your lightsaber?—you’ve never shown any restraint when it comes to damaging First Order property in the past.”

Ren turned back to the door. “I don’t have my lightsaber,” he muttered, as if the admission pained him.

“What? I thought you carried that blasted thing everywhere. It certainly always seems to be to hand when you decide the walls are in the wrong place.” 

“I didn’t intend to get stuck somewhere I might need it,” Ren growled, stalking back to the desk. Back to his box of cocks. “I only meant to come and get the things you stole from me.” 

Hux’s mouth fell open. He rounded on Ren, finger jabbing towards him. “I did not steal your things! What would I want with your box of—” he bit his tongue. He’d almost yelled _penises,_ which would have made it hard to deny snooping. “—of rubbish?” he spat. 

“It’s not rubbish,” Ren said, sounding an awful lot like he was pouting. 

“I don’t care what it is, you do not get to order _my_ officers around on your personal errands. This is the First Order, not ‘Kylo Ren’s kriffing holiday camp’. We’re not here to satisfy your whims or do your bidding.”

Ren shrugged. “I don’t make anyone do these things for me. Obviously, they recognise true power when they see it.”

Hux clenched his fists at his side. He _would not_ be drawn into a fight with Ren. The air crackled. Hux’s blood was thrumming through his body, his breathing ragged. He didn’t know if wanted to punch Ren in his stupid mask or…or… scream until his throat was raw. He settled for glaring instead. 

Yet another heavy silence fell between them. He could hear the muffled shouts from somewhere beyond the door. Sound travelled strangely in the base thanks to all the vents and pipes required to keep the place habitable, so he didn’t think the faint noises were coming from anywhere nearby, but the reminder that other people existed outside of the pair of them was reassuring. 

He reached for his datapad, needing to be doing something proactive to resolve the situation. If he could get a read on what had happened to cut the power, then he’d be able to start working on a solution and be able to evict Ren from his room. There would be no saving his night off, but he’d been foolish to ever think he’d be allowed to relax for a few hours in the first place. At least he’d managed a bath.

He unlocked the screen and found it flooded with alerts and messages. He clicked the top one.

“Oh bollocks,” he muttered, sinking onto the edge of his bed.

“What? What is it?” Ren stayed where he was by the dead door, posture indifferent, aloof, but Hux thought he detected a hint of concern. He wondered when he’d become so proficient at reading emotion in Ren’s modulated voice.

He sighed as he scanned the message to ensure he understood right, then checked the maintenance logs for the affected sector… Shit. Ren remained silent throughout. “It seems there’s been an incident. The engineers triggered an explosion that has knocked power out for more than half the base. It’s ‘shelter in place’ until the damage has been assessed and essential systems restored since they aren’t sure if toxic fumes have leaked into the base. And no one’s quite sure how long that will take since half the engineers are little more than smudges on the surface of this stars forsaken planet.” _Karking balls._

Ren sighed, some of the anger dropping from his shoulders. He looked younger, all of a sudden, less imposing. Although that could have been a trick of the light. Hux’s night vision had been compromised by the brightness of his datapad, and the sickly yellow glow from the glowpanels on the floor didn’t help at all.

“So… what do we do?”

“ _We_ do nothing. You’re going to sit quietly at my desk and touch nothing, and I’m going to use what little charge remains in my datapad to try and resolve this absolute kriffing mess.” His dressing gown slipped off his shoulder as he gestured at the screen and his face froze in a mortified rictus froze at the sudden and unwelcome reminder of his current state of undress. “Right after I’ve dressed—you interrupted my bath,” he snapped, providing an explanation despite one not being requested of him. He couldn’t bring himself to check whether or not Ren was looking.

He hastily grabbed a fresh uniform and a pair of socks from his wardrobe, thankful that his fastidiousness meant he didn’t have to rummage for anything, and shut himself in the refresher without another word or even a glance in Ren’s direction.

Once safely ensconced in the dark of the ‘fresher, Hux leaned back against the door and scrubbed his hands over his face. The night had had so much _promise_ and now he was trapped in the dark with a man who’d never outgrown his surly teen phase, and who he’d also just unintentionally flashed a nipple at. What had he done to deserve such suffering?

*

Hux swore under his breath as his datapad finally died. It had limped along for almost two hours, and he’d managed to eke out every last drop of charge by stopping all but the most essential processes, but he’d known he was emailing on borrowed time. It was an absolute disaster from what he could gather from the reports; a whole sector of the base destroyed after someone miscalculated or had cut a little too deep where they were hollowing out another section of the planet. A working theory was that they’d hit a previously undocumented pocket of gas, which just happened to be beside a fuel store which then ignited and blew out half the power supply. He discovered the comm system was down too—which explained why he couldn’t reach anyone. It had apparently been quite a spectacular sight, although Hux failed to see how. They’d been behind schedule before—he didn’t want to consider how far behind they’d be now. At least the weapon remained largely unscathed, though. It was only personnel, storage, laboratories, and most of engineering they’d lost. Estimated death toll was in the hundreds, which meant they’d have to go on yet another recruitment drive when all their time should really be spent getting Starkiller operational. It was a fuck up to top all fuck ups, and if Hux ever found the idiot responsible, he’d pin them by the ears to the underside of his ship. He didn’t even want to think about what Supreme Leader Snoke was going to say—maybe Hux would be the one ejected into space, or left for dead on a hostile planet. 

“I suppose it’s too much to expect you to have brought your datapad with you?” Hux had asked him after they’d sat in silence for a while.

Ren had looked over his shoulder and glared.

“If you have one, perhaps you’d allow me to borrow it? Even just the battery would do.”

“Those things rot your brain. You should enjoy the time away from it.” Ren had turned back to his cards.

“A ‘no’ would have been sufficient,” Hux had muttered. 

That had been at least two hours ago, and they’d not said two words to each other since.

From the corner of his room, came another _clackclackclackclack_ as Ren shuffled the deck of cards he’d produced from kriff-knew-where in a needlessly flamboyant manner. He was still wearing his helmet, and Hux wondered how he could see the cards properly, but he wasn’t about to ask.

With no datapad to occupy himself with, Hux tried to read his book. It was impossible to concentrate, though. His gaze kept drifting to the shadowy mass of the crate by Ren’s feet. He was finding it difficult to rationalise the Ren he knew with the Ren who owned the toys in the box.

In an effort to keep his eyes on less scandalous things, Hux watched Ren’s hands fly over the cards. He was playing a version of solitaire that Hux wasn’t familiar with. It was soothing watching the way the cards slid through Ren’s gloved hands. Large and powerful, yet surprisingly dexterous. There was a practised grace to the movements that suggested many an hour had been whiled away with those cards. Which was… unexpected. It seemed altogether too human and clashed with the mental profile he’d created. Although that profile was currently in flux thanks to the contents of that crate. It was only fitting, he supposed, that Ren defy expectations in other areas too. What would be next? Ren being attractive beneath that mask? Ha.

Hux poured himself another whiskey. Number four if he remembered correctly. He knew he should slow down—he could feel the alcohol making him careless and the last thing he wanted was for drunk Hux to put in an appearance. His mind wandered as he sipped. He thought of Starkiller, its future now in the balance thanks to someone’s negligence. He thought of the lives wasted, men and women who’d been integral to the success of his project, now gone. All the reports, the bureaucracy. Snoke. But more often than not, his thoughts drifted to Ren: his presence, his hands, his toys. Ren hadn’t moved from the desk since Hux had instructed him to sit there hours ago. Clearly, he was very capable of being a good boy, on occasion. Hux’s eyes fluttered shut as he let the implications of that thought curl around him. Who knew he could be so compliant when the mood struck? A smile twitched at Hux’s lips. Oh, to have the master of the Knights of Ren tamed and at his beck and call. Eager, loyal, hungry for instruction. Together they could rule the galaxy, Hux was certain of it. 

“Want to play?”

Hux startled, unable to stifle the short gasp when he looked up to find that mask looking directly at him. Surely Ren didn’t mean… 

But then he saw the cards Ren was holding up. Oh. _Oh._ That was nearly… no. He scowled at the blush he felt spreading over his cheeks. “No. I’m fine,” he snapped, pointedly looking away. Kriff. Had Ren caught him staring? There was something too knowing in his voice. _…Had he read Hux’s mind?_

Ren shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hux watched him deal the cards, setting them down in a seemingly random pattern.

It was only a few minutes before curiosity got the better of him and he gave up pretending not to look. He sat up from the head of the bed and shuffled to the edge to get a better view. Ren was playing a faster-paced game now, his hands flying across the desk as he slapped the cards down. Hux tried to determine the rules but every time he thought he worked out a rule, Ren did something to contradict it. The game defied order. It was infuriating.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been halfway through his fourth drink, he could have dismissed his burning curiosity. It was a game of cards, he didn’t care. He didn’t _need_ to know why black four could be placed on a red seven one minute, and a black five the next. But the idea of Ren understanding something so fundamentally simple when he couldn’t get a handle on it himself lit a fire inside Hux that he couldn’t ignore. Which was probably how he ended up perched on the end of the bed, stretching his neck up so he could peer past Ren’s arm.

“Why did you do that?” Hux asked after another completely inexplicable move.

“Huh?” Ren looked around and seemed surprised to find Hux so close. “It’s a blurrg,” he replied, as if that made any sense. Apparently noticing Hux’s confusion, he elaborated. “Eats crap, you know? Card doesn’t fit anywhere else, it can go here.”

“Oh, so that’s the discard pile?”

“No, that’s this one. Unless you’re playing Rodian rules.”

“I see.” He didn’t see. Not at all.

Ren continued to play, slower this time though. And even though Hux didn’t ask for further clarification, he explained each move as he made it, along with explaining why he chose some moves over alternatives. It was the most Hux had ever heard him speak and he was surprisingly eloquent.

“I never would have imagined you as a cardsharp,” Hux said, standing up to refill his glass—just a short measure this time. He eyed Ren as he did so, wondering whether the man drank. He’d never even seen him with his ridiculous mask off, so gods knew how he got anything into his mouth. Maybe he pureed his food and sucked it up through a straw, or absorbed it through his hands. As the host (however unwilling) of this impromptu get together, though, it would be remiss of him to not even offer a beverage, even if Ren struck him as someone who’d say no just to be contrary. He grabbed a second glass from the shelf by his desk and poured Ren a generous measure. “Where in the galaxy did you learn to play?” he asked, setting the glass down in front of Ren.

“Here and there. I had a lot of time to myself growing up. Had to do something to fill the time.”

“So, you frequented smuggler’s dens and back alley cantinas as a boy?” Hux smirked, swirling the liquid around in his glass. Ren hadn’t acknowledged the drink yet, but Hux knew he had seen it. His stomach swooped in anticipation at the thought of Ren removing that infernal face covering. He’d assumed him to be human and male, but beyond that, he’d never given much thought to his appearance. Not before tonight.

“Pretty much.” He shrugged. A creak of leather. “I didn’t think you knew the game, how’d you know smugglers play it?”

“Let’s call it an educated guess. Besides, the names of the various moves don’t really lend themselves to an aristocratic parlour setting.”

Ren snorted, a soft huff clearly distinguishable through the modulator. Warmth blossomed in Hux’s chest at the sound and he fought to keep the smugness from his face, choosing to hide his smile in his glass. He didn’t care whether Ren found him amusing or not. 

He looked up from his whiskey to find Ren staring at him from behind his disconcertingly emotionless mask. He suddenly felt exposed, as if Ren could see right to his innermost thoughts, his desires. Every traitorous thought lying exposed for his perusal. It felt unnervingly intimate. 

“Is this for me?” Ren asked, gesturing at the glass of whiskey on the desk and effectively severing the moment.

“No, it’s for the other person trapped in here with us.” Hux rolled his eyes. Idiot. He bit back a comment on what Ren could do with the whiskey if he wasn’t going to be polite enough to drink it and, feeling oddly unbalanced, he excused himself to the bathroom.

The first thing he noticed when he reentered the room was Ren’s helmet sitting on the desk, dead-eyed as usual, but somehow seeming more lifeless than when it was in situ on Ren’s head.

The second thing he noticed was that Ren had removed his gloves. Large, blunt fingers wrapped around the glass of whiskey Hux had left him with, dwarfing it. 

The third thing he noticed (and only because he resisted the temptation to look for as long as he could bear) was a now-helmetless Kylo Ren grimacing as he took a large sip of Hux’s best whiskey.

“Nice,” Ren said, the word in stark opposition to the face he was pulling. A face which was _nothing_ like Hux had pictured. Most startling was his obvious youth—he had to be no more than mid-twenties—and unless he had any hidden heritage, he was definitely human. His dark brows were pinched together, full lips pulled into a moue of distaste. His face was framed by waves of dark, unkempt hair, which was far longer than regulation permitted, curling low around his neck. It looked like he’d made an attempt to tame it with his fingers, but it still looked wild and unruly. 

His expression was uncertain, hesitant, as he glanced up at Hux and quickly looked away, eyes glinting in the glow from the emergency lighting. It was as if he’d stripped off his arrogant swagger with the removal of his helmet, and now he appeared as awkward as a gawky teen. It certainly explained his rash, uncontrollable behaviour, knowing he was barely out of short trousers.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t like it, Ren. In fact I’d rather you didn’t force it down. It’s not cheap.”

“People pay a lot for this piss?” Ren’s eyes were wide, incredulous.

“It’s a matter of taste,” Hux snipped, partly feigning offence. Ren was an uncultured swine, he hadn’t really expected him to appreciate a decent drop. “You clearly lack a refined palate.” 

He took another sip, hissing through his teeth. “I’m surprised you haven’t burnt yours away with this stuff.”

Hux tutted. If Ren was going to complain with every mouthful, he’d have it himself—the avoidance of drinking alone wasn’t worth the wastage of expensive alcohol. He leaned in to snatch the glass, but Ren pulled it further out of reach, clutching it protectively to his chest. Unfortunately, the four whiskeys Hux had already consumed chose that moment to make their presence known, and Hux overbalanced. He reached out to catch himself, his head a spinning whirl of invectives aimed solely at his weak alcohol tolerance, and latched onto the first solid thing his hands met. Which, of course, was Ren. From never having seen Ren’s face to having it less than a hand’s span from his own was a lot to process. 

“Hi,” Ren said, an amused lilt to his voice. It was softer without the modulator, filled with a warmth that put Hux in mind of cold winters spent huddled under thick blankets, and he had a sudden urge to ask Ren to read to him.

Hux pushed himself upright and smoothed his hands over his clothes, spluttering a half-hearted, mortified apology. He could still feel the phantom firmness of Ren’s chest beneath his hands. Fuck. He shouldn’t have had that second drink. Or the third. Or the fourth. At least it was dark enough that his burning cheeks should be disguised. If he hadn’t just exited the bathroom, he would have darted in there to recover, but he didn’t want Ren getting it into his head that he had a weak bladder as well as wandering hands. Bloody fuck.

“You can have it back if you’re that desperate,” Ren said, proffering that cursed glass of whiskey towards him. His lips twitched as if struggling to suppress a smile. How could a face be so open and expressive?

Hux glared at him with as much disdain as he could muster. “No. You keep it,” he said. Right now, more whiskey was the last thing he needed. Why did Ren have to take off his stupid helmet? Hux hated the feeling of wrong-footedness he’d felt since coming out of the bathroom. Everything he was learning about Ren was tilting his assumptions on their side, or just clear kicking it out of the airlock.

Silence settled between them. Ren stubbornly took a couple more pained sips of his drink as he absently gathered up the cards and shuffled them. _Clackclackclackclack._ Straighten. Separate. _Clackclackclackclack._

“Do you know any games?” 

Hux frowned. “Do I know any games?” he repeated. 

“Cards?” He held up the deck in illustration, just in case Hux had forgotten what playing cards were. “I assume we’re going to be stuck here a bit longer, so might as well do something. But if you’d rather sit there pretending to read…” He shrugged one shoulder, infuriatingly dismissive. Hux could hardly say no now.

*

The time passed quickly as they played; Ren taught him the rules of a card game that in his words, ‘better suits your rigid definitions of right and wrong’, while they slowly worked their way through the whiskey. It was a surprisingly enjoyable way to pass the time. They’d moved to the bed to play since there was only one chair at the desk—Hux taking the head end, Ren sitting cross-legged opposite him—and Hux found it increasingly hard to stop staring at him. Ren looked so much more relaxed than he usually did, and he kept smiling—faintly, but still unmistakably smiling. He didn’t want to think about how quickly they’d slipped into an easy camaraderie—it was unnerving, especially given their working relationship—but it was hard to deny the fact that without the constant niggling at each other and oneupmanship that defined their working together, they got on quite well. Even knowing the box of dicks was _right there,_ lurking in the periphery, didn’t bother Hux as much anymore. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he suspected a large part was that now he was seeing this other side to Ren, the thought of him playing with those toys was less...objectionable. Kriff. He really should stop thinking about Ren playing with those toys.

Reluctantly, Hux dragged his attention away from Ren’s crooked half-smile and looked at his hand of cards. He quickly identified his next several moves, but he could feel Ren watching him so he deliberately took his time. 

He was about to play his next card when the bottle of whiskey in his lap wobbled then flew towards Ren’s outstretched hand. “Ren!” he yelped, looking up to see Ren taking a large swig directly out of the bottle rather than pouring it into his glass.

“What?” Ren arched an eyebrow, taking another swig and sucking in a breath through his teeth.

“You can’t drink straight from the bottle. It cost 62 credits!” Hux chided.

Ren’s eyes widened. “But it tastes like Bantha piss. Who pays that much for piss?”

“I do! Now, give it here.” Hux snatched the bottle back and made a show of cleaning the mouth and neck with a hankie, before pouring a generous amount in his glass. He ignored Ren’s pointed eye roll.

“I’m bored,” Ren huffed, lying back on the bed with an overly-dramatic sigh. He was a ridiculous drunk and Hux vowed to get him drunk again at the soonest opportunity.

“I’m sorry my accommodations aren’t outfitted for your amusement. In case you’ve forgotten, it wasn’t exactly a planned evening.”

Ren snorted. “What would you have done if you’d planned it?”

The question caught Hux off guard. It was simple enough, but he couldn’t work out why Ren was asking it of him. Did he want to know what Hux would have planned for an evening with _him?_ Or was it a more general ‘what do you do for fun’ enquiry? Hux could honestly say he’d never given one moment’s thought to spending any time with Ren, but for reasons he didn’t want to dwell on, managed to stop himself before blurting this out loud. 

“I’d have better lighting for a start,” he said, looking around the room. He’d gotten used to the sickly glow, but he didn’t like how it washed out his complexion. “How would you have planned to spend the evening?”

Hux didn’t miss the look Ren shot his crate, abandoned on the floor by his desk. Just the thought of its contents made his cock twitch with interest. “I don’t know. Grab a shower. Read. Meditate some.”

Oh. “That… that was my plan for the evening too,” Hux managed, trying to wrench his thoughts away from the obscene images now dancing around in his head. What was happening to him? “Only with no meditating. And a bath, not a shower, which I thankfully managed to have before this situation arose.”

“Ahh, yes.” Ren smirked, his gaze flicking over Hux’s body in a way that made him feel thoroughly exposed. “That’s why you were dressed so slutty when I came over.”

Hux’s mouth fell open. “Slutty!? It was a dressing gown! And I wasn’t expecting company. Especially company that won’t fucking leave.”

“If you hadn’t stolen my—”

Hux made a frustrated noise in his throat. “I’m not getting into this again with you.” This was why they didn’t get on—Ren always knew exactly what to say to wind him up. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, feeling a stress headache forming behind his eyes. Unless it was a hangover. Maybe he should drink more. “Look, it surely won’t be much longer before they manage to unlock the doors and restore the comm system. Let’s just go back to politely ignoring each other until then.”

“Fine.” Ren exhaled and dragged a hand through his hair with the air of a sulky teen. “Whatever.”

A heavy silence settled over the room. It was unnerving being somewhere so quiet. Hux was used to the constant rumbling hum of a starship, and even Starkiller had its share of background noise like any large, busy base—especially one mid-construction. There was nothing now but the barely-there buzz of the life support system that was functioning at just enough capacity to provide them with a whisper of air and those horrendous glowpanels. They could be the only ones still left alive as far as Hux knew. How long had it been since he’d last had contact with anyone? It had to be a few hours.

The silence was all the more awkward because Ren didn’t return to his chair at Hux’s desk. No, he stayed directly in Hux’s line of sight, sitting cross-legged on the end of Hux’s bed, absently shuffling the cards. Hux knew he could move somewhere else, but realistically his only options were to hide in the refresher, which felt a little juvenile, or sit at his desk, which put him next to Ren’s box of toys. Neither option was particularly inviting. Besides, he wouldn’t have Ren dictate where he sat in his own room. 

With an irritated huff, Hux settled himself back against the head of his bed and picked up his datapad. A force of habit spurred on by the faint hope that maybe… maybe it wasn’t out of charge. Maybe there’d be enough for him to at least access the latest status report and discover how much more of this hell he would have to suffer through.

Unsurprisingly, it was still dead. Hux tossed it to the side, not caring when it skimmed off the bed and clattered to the floor. Fuck it.

“Want me to deal you in?” 

Hux looked up to find Ren watching him from beneath his brows, intense dark eyes glinting. He was playing that ridiculous solitaire game again that he’d clearly been making up as he went along. Hux really could not be arsed with any of it anymore, so he had no idea why he answered as he did.

“Ugh. Go on then.” He grabbed the whiskey from the bedside table with the intention of refilling his glass, but at the last second, drank directly from the bottle. There was no point standing on ceremony. What was Ren going to do? Run to Snoke and tell on him? Hux snorted at the image and Ren cocked an enquiring eyebrow at him. He offered him the whiskey in lieu of a reply; some things didn’t bear explaining.

“Are you sure you want me to put my lips around this?” Ren waggled the bottle.

Hux waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not planning on remembering this night, so do what you like.”

Ren’s answering smirk bypassed Hux’s simmering rage and went straight to his cock, but if Ren noticed the sudden shortening of Hux’s breath, he didn’t react. 

They started playing _Slam_ this time—a pointless card shedding game which required no thought whatsoever, but it suited Hux fine. He needed something mindless. And he couldn’t deny it was fun those times he managed to clear his cards the fastest. 

“What do you say we make this interesting?” Ren asked before dealing out their fifth round.

Hux had been so intent on watching Ren’s hands as he shuffled the cards, it took him a second or two to realise he’d spoken, let alone that a response was required. 

“Interesting? Are you proposing a wager?”

Ren looked down at the cards and sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Okay…” Hux narrowed his eyes. Ren was up to something, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to know what it was. The curiosity would eat him up if he didn’t see where this was going, though. “What do you suggest? I don’t exactly carry loose credits on me.”

“Well...” Ren took a large swig from the bottle, swiping the excess off his chin with his sleeve. He held Hux’s gaze with his own. “I was thinking more like, loser has to strip off an item of clothing.” 

Hux spluttered, but Ren didn’t look away; didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry, I thought you said—”

“You heard right. What do you think?”

Hux tilted his head to the ceiling and exhaled through his nose. As far as suggestions for passing the time went, it wasn’t _terrible._ The thought of getting to see beneath Ren’s layers not entirely repellent. It— Oh, who was he kidding. It was a truly awful idea. Ren had beaten him four out of every five games with his damn space witch reflexes. Hux would be naked in front of a fully-clothed Ren in minutes. How was that fair?

“I’ll let you choose the game,” Ren said, interrupting before Hux could fully talk himself out of it. “I’ll even play one-handed to even things out a bit, if you think you can’t beat me otherwise.” 

Fuck. A challenge. Hux glared at him. “I’ll not have you go easy on me, Kylo Ren. Same game, no handicap, I’ll deal first.”

Ren grinned as he handed over the cards and Hux realised he’d been played. Oh well, it was too late to back down now. 

Hux lost the first round. And the second. He scraped a victory on the third round, although only because he shoved Ren, which distracted him sufficiently that he fumbled his cards. The distraction tactic secured him three further victories, but even so, by the start of game ten, he was sat only in his vest and trousers, while Ren was practically still dressed—all he’d lost were his socks, his hood, and his belt. Hux wanted to argue that a belt couldn’t be counted as an item of clothing, but since he’d be down either a vest or a pair of trousers if he hadn’t counted his own belt as clothing, he kept quiet.

By the end of round eleven, Hux and Ren were on equal footing, both now sat in their vest and trousers. That was what Hux blamed his next two losses on. He could barely concentrate on the cards thanks to the sight of Ren’s broad shoulders; the way the thin fabric stretched across his chest; the way the dim lighting made the contours of his muscles so much more prominent; the light sheen of sweat across his skin making him glow. It was obscene how good he looked beneath the layers. It almost made Hux angry. What gave him the right to look so much like every fantasy man Hux had every entertained in his mind? 

Round thirteen. Hux only had trousers and underwear left to lose, but all he could think about was how he wanted nothing more than to be held down by those arms, to feel Ren’s presence all around him, engulfing him. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the thoughts away. Any time would be a bad time for these images but seconds before he was undoubtedly going to have to remove his trousers in front of the object of his current fantasy was truly the most terrible. Maybe Ren wouldn’t notice. Or maybe he wouldn’t lose after all.

“Ready?” Ren asked.

Hux snapped his eyes open. “I hope you like losing,” he snarled, twisting all his pent up arousal into confidence. He would win. He _had_ to win.

He…

He lost. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

“Come on Hux, loser strips, remember.” Ren grinned, enjoying himself far too much at Hux’s expense.

“I hate you.”

“Less talk, more action. Chop chop.” Ren clapped his hands, the grin on his face growing until it was more of a leer. 

Hux thumbed the button of his trousers. Gods, what was he doing? It wasn’t over yet, though, he could still scrape a victory. If he was lucky, Ren would be so distracted by Hux’s dick begging for attention through his underwear that Hux would win the next three games, leaving Ren the fully naked loser of their game. Would his cock match the rest of him?

As he pulled down the zipper, his thumb grazed smooth fabric and for a split second he was happy because he remembered he was still wearing his favourite panties, and— And then his stomach plummeted. Because he was wearing panties. He was about to take his trousers off in front of Ren and he was wearing dark green, silk panties that left nothing to the imagination. He’d never taken them off, just put his uniform on over the top. Shit. _Why hadn’t he taken them off??_

He could feel Ren’s eyes on him, his breath held, waiting, watching. The only way forward was to brazen it out. Hux pulled the zipper the rest of the way down and shuffled out of his trousers, folding them carefully. 

As Hux leaned over to set them neatly on the pile with his other clothes, Ren let out a low, strangled groan.

“Yes, Ren? Is something the matter?” He settled back in position on the bed, legs crossed. Ren was staring at him, not even pretending he wasn’t staring at Hux’s cock. Hux smirked, for once enjoying the scrutiny because Ren looked so flustered, so hungry. “I believe it’s my turn to deal,” he said brightly, holding out his hand for the cards.

“You… uh. Are those...? Do you always wear—? Um.”

“So eloquent, Ren. Bravo. I assume you mean these?” He hooked a finger under the elastic at his hip and pinged it against his skin. The snap as it hit ringing out in the quiet. Hux bit back a smile—he didn’t know why he’d been so worried. Riling Ren had long been one of his favourite past times, and this teasing was just another form of their usual dynamic. 

Ren nodded, mouth hanging open.

“Oh, these are just for special occasions.” Hux was warming up to it now, enjoying the desirous way Ren was eating him up. It made him feel strong, to have such a powerful man reduced to incoherence by his arse in silk panties. If only he’d known he could reduce Ren to mush this easily before… He’d definitely have to think up a way to use this to his advantage.

He started dealing the cards.

“Today was special?” Ren asked, voice uncertain. Hopeful.

“Hmm, a little. It was my first time off in a while, you see, and I was planning to make the most of it.” He finished dealing and started setting out his cards in the usual pattern. Ren still hadn’t moved, although Hux noted his hand had drifted to his lap at some point and there was no hiding the fact he was palming himself. Hux felt positively light-headed. “Do you like them, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“My panties, Ren. Are they to your taste?” He sat up on his knees under the pretence of adjusting the fit of the seat of the panties, giving Ren a perfect, unobstructed view of his cock straining against dark green silk. 

“Oh fuck, Hux,” Ren murmured. He surged forward, toppling Hux onto his back, scattering the cards and wrapped his arms around Hux’s hips, pressing his face into his stomach. “You’re so gorgeous. Do you have any idea? _Fuck.”_

Hux was speechless. He’d intended to tease Ren a little longer, drive him a little wild. He’d never expected Ren to fold so quickly. He tentatively put a hand on Ren’s head, pushing his hair back. Gods, it was soft. He hadn’t expected that.

Ren sucked in a deep, shaky breath and then pulled back. “Can I touch you? I need— I want—”

Hux tilted his hips. “Yes,” he hissed. “Please.” 

He groaned as Ren nuzzled his erection through the silk, unable to stop himself thrusting upwards, pleading for more. The room spun around him as Ren started mouthing him, deliciously filthy sounds falling from Ren’s lips as he lapped at the precum already darkening the fabric. Hux threw his arm over his face, stifling another groan. It had been so long since anyone had touched him, he barely knew what to do with himself. He wanted more, so much more, but he was already perilously close to the edge. He refused to embarrass himself by coming in his panties like a wet behind the ears teen, though, not in front of Ren. He clenched his eyes and turned his face into the mattress, biting down hard on his hand. And then Ren was tugging at his waistband, pulling the panties off and flinging them away. Hux shuddered as the cool air met his hard length. He raised onto his elbows and gaped down at the oddly beautiful man between his legs, the man who’d been a constant source of irritation ever since his arrival on the Finalizer, but who now looked up at him, pupils blown wide with lust, a near-feral grin plastered across his face. What was he thinking, doing this with Ren? Was he that hard up for human contact that he— Ren licked a stripe along the ridge of his cock and Hux had no alternative but to collapse back onto the bed, thoughts completely derailed. He made a few more teasing swipes with his tongue then swallowed Hux down to the root, forcing another groan from Hux’s lips as his cock plunged into the hot wet heat. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last. It was like Ren’s mouth was made specifically for this. His hand found its way to Ren’s head and he grabbed fistfuls of thick, soft, dark hair, holding on for fear of floating away, his hips jerking futilely beneath the weight of the arm pinning him to the bed. Ren’s other hand teased Hux’s balls, long fingers dipping lower, making probing, glancing touches to his puckered hole. Heat coiled in his gut, pressure building, his balls drawing up. He squirmed under Ren’s ministrations, wanting more, but less. Harder, faster and… He didn’t think he’d be able to hold on much longer— It was too soon. He didn’t want it to be over.

“Stop, stop,” Hux hissed, yanking Ren off him by his hair. Ren stared down at him, hair mussed, lips wet and swollen. He looked confused, worried. Hux huffed out a laugh. “No, no, it was good. Brilliant,” he said, feeling a strange compulsion to soothe his ego. “But this’ll be over far too soon if you continue like that.” He smirked. “And you’re still wearing far too many clothes.”

“I didn’t lose the game though,” Ren replied, a look of smug satisfaction settling on his features.

Hux dragged him closer, forcing Ren to settle his weight over his body, and guided his head down until Hux’s lips were pressed into the large shell of one of Ren’s ears. “Kylo Ren,” Hux whispered. “Undress for me. Now.” 

“Ohh, fuck, yes.” Ren scrambled off the bed, all long limbs and no grace as he stripped off his vest and trousers, chucking them off to the side with a lack of care that would normally have infuriated Hux, but he was too turned on to care now. The eagerness with which he leapt to obey Hux’s demand made Hux’s breath catch in his throat and he filed the information away to make use of another time. There was definitely going to be another time. 

Ren paused before pulling off his underwear, a tight black pair of boxer briefs that hugged the tops of his thighs and showed off a sizable bulge. Hux’s eyes widened as he took it all in, mouth watering. No wonder Ren stalked around like he owned the place. He slowly dragged his eyes up Ren’s body, mind filled with images of what he wanted to do; imagining trailing his tongue across Ren’s pale, sparsely-haired skin, mapping each mole, each scar; taking a dusky pink nipple into his mouth and teasing it hard with his teeth; fucking the dip between those beautiful, broad pectorals. Fuck. He finally met Ren’s gaze and found him watching Hux hungrily, lower lip pulled between his teeth. 

The moment stretched out between them. The unvoiced question— _Are we seriously doing this?_ —floating in the air between them. Hux had propped himself up on his elbows to better watch Ren strip, but now he fell back, still maintaining eye contact. He trailed a finger down his chest, delighting in the way Ren followed it with his hungry gaze. He hitched his knees up, let his legs fall open as he moved his hand lower, a few teasing strokes of his cock, then dipping his hand lower, showing Ren where he wanted him most. Ren groaned and practically ripped his underwear off, tripping over his feet in his haste to get back to Hux. He settled over him, raised on his elbows, caging Hux in. They rutted lazily a few times, their erections sliding together, slick from precum. Hux curled his arms around Ren’s broad shoulders, dragging his fingers through his hair, scraping his nails down his spine, arching his body to bring them into contact in every possible place. Ren was so big. Everywhere. Hux shivered at the thought of riding him. Not tonight. That sort of thing needed lube, and he wasn’t sure he had enough. 

“I have lube,” Ren whispered into his lips as if reading his mind. The thought gives Hux momentary pause— _had_ Ren read his mind?— but it was rapidly superseded by the memory of the crate. Yes, Ren did have lube; Lots of it if he remembered correctly. Interesting.

“Why do you have lube on you?” Hux asked, feigning innocence. “Anyone would think you planned this whole seduction.”

“Seduction?” Ren smirked, an amused huff escaping his lips. “As a Force user, I’m prepared for any eventuality,” he replied, straight-faced. 

“Of course you are.” Hux rolled his eyes. “Where is it then?” He expected Ren to backtrack. He wouldn’t even have been that surprised if it turned out Ren _did_ walk around with lube ‘just in case’. 

Defying expectation, though, and definitely aware of it, Ren sat back on his heels and held out his hand, brow creased in concentration. There was a rattle, the clatter of a lid being knocked open, and a bottle of jogan fruit flavoured lube landed in Ren’s outstretched hand.

“Very impressive,” Hux muttered, surprised to find he wasn’t actually lying. Ren's raw power was intoxicating, and he was starting to think that this spark of whatever between them had always been there. “Although,” he continued, unable to stop the smile playing at his lips as he imagined Ren getting flustered trying to explain himself, “it sounded an awful lot like you summoned it from that crate of yours by my desk. Tell me, did you intend to have lieutenant Mitaka deliver you a box of lube?"

Ren’s answering grin was deadly. “There's more than just lube in there, as you well know.”

"...What?" That was… unexpected. His face fell.

"I know you peeked, Hux." 

“No I— What do you mean I—” He exhaled. Damn. He’d known Ren would know, somehow. “Fine. How? How did you know?”

“I don't care, by the way. Night’s worked out pretty well for me so far, wouldn’t you say? And as for how… You're not nearly as subtle as you think.”

Hux thought he should feel annoyed that Ren had, what? Skimmed his mind? Read his thoughts? But it was hard to keep hold of any burgeoning irritation when the man in question was straddling his thighs, huge cock still semi-hard and tantalisingly close. He huffed—the only expression of exasperation he could manage while his dick still had control of him. “You knew all this time that I knew and you said nothing?”

Ren grinned and leaned down to kiss him, stopping any further protest Hux might have lodged. “You want to see what else I've got in there?”

Hux was tempted. So very tempted. But now he’d seen what Ren himself was offering? Even the glittery pink monster would struggle to meet his expectations. Besides, if Ren didn’t fuck him soon he was going to lose his mind. He couldn’t bear much more teasing. “Next time.”

“Next time?”

"Well, I suppose it depends on how well you perform.” He dragged his hands up Ren’s thighs, his nails leaving pink lines in pale skin. “Consider this your appraisal and we’ll see how things go.” 

Ren shook his head, and laughed, the ends of his hair tickling Hux’s face, his chest. “I’d best get on with it then,” he murmured, capturing Hux’s lips once again.

Then the world suddenly tilted and Hux found himself face-down, arse-up on the bed before he registered what happened. He squawked at the indignity of being manhandled, but all rational thought fled as soon as one of Ren’s slicked up fingers rubbed over his entrance and he quickly buried his face in the pillow to smoother the throaty groan that escaped. Ren took his time fingering him open, pressing kisses to the back of his neck, teasing his nipples, tugging at his cock. The way he ran his hand over Hux’s body was almost reverent. He lay over Hux like a blanket, filling all his senses. Hux felt fully engulfed by him and he thought he should hate it, but he really, really didn’t. It was intoxicating and he wanted more. By the time Ren had worked three fingers in, Hux was a sweaty, panting mess, and at risk of becoming fully undone. 

He grunted and pulled away, throwing a look over his shoulder. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going grab one of your toys and do it myself.” 

Ren's eyes brightened at his begging tone. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, damn it, you’re not so big. Fuck me.” 

Ren’s lazy chuckle curled around Hux as he turned his face into the pillow again. That had been a lie. They both knew it. Ren was big—Hux was sure he had never had a partner quite so well-endowed—but he was more than ready. He wanted to feel it; wanted to wake up the next day and be in no doubt what had happened. He wanted to wear the lingering ache of this night like a badge of honour. When Ren pulled out his fingers, the emptiness made Hux want to cry out, but then he felt those large hands on his arse cheeks, spreading him open; felt the slick head of Ren’s cock pressing against his loosened hole and oh fuck it was big. It was too big. It felt like he was being split in half. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to relax. He was dimly aware of Ren’s deep voice, rumbling just at the edge of his hearing as he rubbed his hands over Hux’s lower back. It seemed to go on forever, the slow drag of Ren’s shaft against Hux’s rim, taking his time despite Hux’s whimpered protests urging him faster. When he was fully seated, Ren released a throaty moan, his entire body quivering with need. 

"Gods, Hux. You're so fucking tight. I— fuck.” His fingers dug into Hux’s hips as he held himself still. “What are you doing to me? So fucking tight." He bent over, clutching Hux to his chest with one powerful arm, sweat dripping on to Hux’s back as he murmured praise into the back of Hux’s neck. 

"Move, you hulking great brute. We're not here for cuddling." Hux thought he might die if Ren didn't move soon. He was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed and the last thing he wanted was for Ren to get wind of that.

“As you wish, General.” Ren lifted his weight off Hux, tightened the hold he had of Hux’s hips and pulled out, slowly, tortuously, before thrust back into him in one long move. Hux cried out. 

“Yes, like that. Fuck me, you bastard. I want to feel you for a week.”

Ren growled and hammered into him, pushing Hux into the mattress. Gone were the careful, reverent touches of before. This was Ren letting go. He took Hux in hand, pumping his cock in time with his thrusts until he came after only short while with a strained cry and a burst of energy that rattled the glasses on the side table.

He collapsed on top of Hux with a moan, his softening dick slipping out along with a trickle of come. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't. I tried— I wanted to— I can usually last longer! Here, let me—” He flipped Hux over and took him into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, and swirling his tongue around his glans until, after an embarrassingly short time, Hux was grunting through his own orgasm.

“Do you think the shower works?” Ren asked after they’d caught their breath. 

“No idea. But I'm having a bath.”

“Is it big enough for two…?”

“Don't push your luck, Ren.”

“I think you can call me Kylo now I've had my dick in your ass.”

“We'll see. Maybe next time.”

“So, there's definitely gonna be a next time?”

“Well, you do have a rather large crate of toys for us to work through.”

“Very true.” Ren laughed, the sound light and carefree. It made Hux’s stomach do a strange thing that he didn’t want to think about. 

In the end, it turned out the bath _was_ big enough for two. If Hux straddled Ren’s thighs.

*

Dopheld hurried through the corridor, all sorts of horrifying thoughts rushing through his mind. What if he’d been lying injured all night? What if he’d survived the explosion, but then was asphyxiated or poisoned or burned in a secondary fire or… No. He was fine. He had to be. The part of the base where the senior officers were quartered had survived relatively unscathed as far as they knew, only suffering the same power failure as everywhere else and this was General Hux’s last known position. Of course, they were still determining the extent of the damage so he couldn’t be certain nothing had happened…but… No. He was probably asleep, or too busy to contact the command tower… Surely he would have said something, sent a message, a signal, anything, if he was capable, though. It wasn’t like him to be silent for so long…

“Lieutenant, I can hear you panicking from here. He will be fine,” Captain Phasma said, without a hint of compassion. She had been a (mostly) reassuring presence as his side as they checked names off their list, her practicality and straightforward nature neatly counteracting his tendency to jump to terrible conclusions.

Power had finally been restored a few hours ago, but the base was still in disarray. The death count had been much higher than early estimates had suggested, thanks largely to all the secondary incidents the explosion had caused (electrical fires, heating malfunctions, toxic gas) and the comm network was still patchy, so now began the task of accounting for survivors. General Hux hopefully among them. No one had seen or heard from him since his datapad ran out of charge a short while after the explosion, and he’d not responded to any of the increasingly frantic messages Dopheld had sent him since the power came back. Lord Ren was also unaccounted for, though that was hardly unusual. He was next on their list after the general and Dopheld couldn’t say he was looking forward to knocking on his door.

They reached Hux’s quarters without incident. He pressed the buzzer and waited, heart already in his throat but inching higher with every second that the door remained unopened. He buzzed again. Still nothing. So it was with a trembling hand, that he used the master cylinder to override the lock. As he went to return it to his pocket, though, he missed and ended up dropping it on the floor. It rolled through the doorway as the door hissed open and Dopheld fell to his hands and knees to grab it before it rolled somewhere unreachable. As he reached for it, though, he heard a sharp intake of breath from Phasma and his thoughts immediately flew to the worst possible outcome.

And when his eyes lit upon General Hux, for a split second, he thought his worst fears had become realised. Hux was lying naked, face-down on the bed, his hair a mess, the blanket tangled around his ankles. But then he noted that there were a few too many arms and legs. And that the was a messy head of dark hair on the pillow beside Hux’s red head. At the same moment, he noticed Kylo Ren’s helmet sat on Hux’s desk, and then he saw the crate he’d been supposed to deliver to Kylo Ren, sitting open on the floor and full of— 

All of a sudden, Phasma had a hold of his arm and was tugging him out of the room.

“Clearly, the General has had a busy night,” she said, taking the cylinder from Dopheld’s hand and locking the door.

“But what about—?”

“We came to check he’d not been harmed. He looked quite alive, did he not?”

“Yes, but—”

“And Kylo Ren, too.”

“Yes, but—”

“Then our objective is achieved. I can’t imagine either of them would appreciate being woken right now, but you’re welcome to try.”

Mitaka paled. “No! No. I’m sure that won’t be necessary. We, uh… We can report that both the general and Lord Ren are unharmed and… and not to be disturbed.” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

They headed back towards the command centre, Dopheld’s pace hurried for a different reason now.

“Lieutenant, you’ll speak to no one about what you saw, yes?” Phasma said after a few moments.

“Of course. I— I wouldn’t—” He shook his head to dislodge the image of General Hux’s pale arse. “I wouldn’t dare. I saw nothing… untoward or worthy of repeating.”

“As I thought. Good day, lieutenant.”

Mitaka watched her stride off towards the storm trooper training facility wondering just how he was supposed to look General Hux in the eye again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/coriesocks) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/coriesocks) @coriesocks <3


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